Fishy Go Bye-Bye
by MikuLover
Summary: (Baby America /Daddy England) When one of England and America's beloved pet fishes dies, England must comfort the small child.


**AN/: I'm a sucker for anything fluffy, or anything where one character is completely clueless and the other one is completely uptight. That stuff makes me laugh my pants off.**

**So I decided to give it the old college try. Let's see how it goes, eh?**

* * *

If England had known what he had been getting into when he had adopted America, he probably would have left the tyke in the field where he had found him.

The boy, though he was quite small in both stature and age, got into so much trouble that England didn't quite know what to do with him. When he had turned his back on the child for one second, he had found him eating cat food when he turned back around. When he left the bathroom for a moment to get a bottle of shampoo from the hall closet, he came back to find America with a hair dryer in his hands, ready to drop it into the tub. This lad would stop at nothing to get himself killed, apparently.

Today was no different.

"America, stop fussing about!" England said, trying desperately to keep the frustration out of his voice. "If you don't hold still, this is going to take longer!"

"No! No brush!" America cried, twisting away from it as if it were a red-hot poker. He cradled his head of hair with his arms protectively. "No brush!" Britain sighed.

"Yes brush! Your hair is an absolute rat's nest, and I won't have you looking like that!" America continued to struggle, but eventually gave in when England threatened to put him in a headlock if he did not behave. (England wouldn't have really put a baby in a headlock, but come on. The kid was asking for it!)

"Happy?" America asked, holding his outstretched arms out to England, who smiled and scooped the babe up.

"Yes America, I'm happy. Was that so bad?" he asked, bringing him over to the mirror so he could look.

America observed himself with curious fascination. He moved his head slowly to the left, and then slowly to the right. He stared directly into his own eyes, fierce determination on his face.

"Yes! Bad!" he cried finally, shaking his head and running his clumsy little fingers through his mop. In a few short seconds, Britain's hard work had been reduced to a tangled mess.

"Alfred! No! I...oh, what's the point?" England said, sighing and holding the boy close to his chest. "You're never going to be able to look nice, are you?"

"I nice. See?" Alfred smiled widely up at England and batted his eyelashes. The older nation couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, you are nice. Perhaps with just a streak of naughty in there, eh?"

"I want to go see fishes." America whined, trying to wriggle out of his guardian's arms. England held fast and managed to keep hold of the boy, despite the fact that America had the energy of a mechanical bull.

"Okay, okay! America, do you want me to drop you? Just hold still like a good boy and I'll take you to see Francis and Drake, alright?"

"'Kay!" America snuggled into his keeper's arms and allowed England to lead him to the small fish bowl on the buffet in the living room. Francis and Drake, two brightly colored gold fish, swam in small, lazy circles, occasionally darting towards each other or their little stone castle.

"There. Now you can get down and see the fishes. Do you want your stool?" Britain asked, placing the youth on the floor and stretching.

"Need stool. Can't see fishes." America said, with a firm demeanor, as if he were ordering a meal at a fancy restaurant. England shifted the wooden stool over to the table, and America clambered onto it, watching Francis and Drake with wide eyes. "They swimming." he said, matter-of-factly.

"Is that so? I never would have guessed." England sighed, collapsing on the couch behind the buffet. "Do me a favor and let me just rest for a moment, alright? Just sit and watch after Francis and Drake. Don't let them get into trouble."

"I watch them good." Alfred said, plopping down on the stool and staring intently at the creatures, who seemed used to the small boy observing them.

England didn't know how long he was asleep, nor if he had even fallen asleep, but all he knew was that far too soon, America was tugging on his sleeve with a proud expression plastered on his round face.

"Alfred? What's wrong?" England yawned, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. "Why are you giving me that look?"

"Fishy go sleep too." he said. England stared with some horror at the dead fish in America's hand. "Fishy want freedom, so I take him out. But he sleeping now, so be quiet." England couldn't tear his eyes away from the dead goldfish, nor he could he think of anything but what America had just said to him. _'Fishy want freedom. Fishy want freedom.'_ Freedom? Did America want...freedom? Or was he really such a bad parent that his child was imagining that animals were speaking to him? He strongly hoped it was the ladder.

"Oh America..." he said, softly, closing the boy's fingers and looking him in the eyes. Such brilliant, blue eyes. "Francis...Francis isn't sleeping."

"Make him play!"

"Alfred, I can't make him play. He's gone." America looked rather confused for a moment before giggling.

"No, I just do magic. See, here he is!" he spread his fingers again and revealed the dead fish. Britain folded Alfred's fingers again and sighed.

"No America, I mean Francis is...dead. Fishes can't live out of water, they die if you take them out." it took a moment for the news to sink in. For a few seconds, America simply watched Britain as if he expected the man to start laughing or ruffle his hair fondly and tell him he had just been joking.

Then the sniffled began, and then finally the tears.

"Y-you mean, Francis go t-t-to heaven?" he said, wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve. England had explained the concept of death to America when the cat, Humphrey, had gotten old and expired.

"Yes America, he's in heaven now." standing and dusting his slacks off, he took the fish-free hand of the child and led him to the bathroom. "But don't be sad. In fish heaven, there are lots of plants for Francis to play in, and an even bigger castle! Plus, there's a lot of girl fishes too."

"W-will I see Francis in h-heaven?" America sniffled, trying to be brave and stop crying. England smiled.

"Of course. But don't talk about dying, please." he took the small creature from America's palm and flushed him down the toilet, saluting him as he swirled away to the sewers. Alfred tried to copy Britain, and ended up with a very similar (if not a little sloppier) gesture.

"Bye-bye Francis." he said, his little voice sounding so unbearably sad that Britain's heart almost snapped cleanly in two.

"There there. Dry those tears, we'll get a new fish." he stooped to pick America up and then helped him wash his hands in the bathroom sink. "Why don't we go have some tea and crumpets? Will that make you feel better?" he asked, smiling shyly at the boy in his arms, who grinned back and wrapped his arms around his father's neck.

"Yes. Tea and cookies are yummy!" England chuckled as he carried his companion to the kitchen and began to prepare their afternoon snack.

"_Crumpets_ dear, they're called crumpets."

* * *

**AN/: Oh god, Francis! No! I salute you! Everyone salute Francis! NAO! ¯\(ºдಠ****)/¯**

**I'd appreciate it if you took the time to leave a review telling me what you thought, and maybe if I should write more Hetalia? **

**And yes, I see Britain and America as father/son in earlier times, not big brother/little brother (and as a delicious couple in later times). That's just my opinion. **

**MikuLover~**


End file.
